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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29566773">One Summer Away from You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/221B_bored/pseuds/221B_bored'>221B_bored</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Discovery, Fluff and Angst, Gay Sex, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Summer Romance, Summerteen Romance, Teenagers, Teenlock</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:08:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,731</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29566773</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/221B_bored/pseuds/221B_bored</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Teen Sherlock goes to summer camp expecting it to be boring and annoying. That is until he meets John Watson. Forced to share a cabin and play summer games with his first-ever crush is going to be impossible. He wants to kiss him so badly but what if John doesn't like him that way? Even when Irene gets involved, it's just too hard. How can he spend the next three months so close yet, so far from John? Things are about to get interesting.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Irene Adler/Molly Hooper, Sherlock Holmes &amp; John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello, thank you so much for choosing to read. This one's just a little something I worked up. I have some main plans on another story and, this one I'm not too sure if I want to dedicate my time to it. So, please tell me what you think. If this gets 10-15 kudos, I will continue with the story. It's just I'm not confident enough in it. I appreciate you all. I hope you have a wonderful day and enjoy the story. Comments and kudos are very much encouraged and encouraging. Don't be shy. I can take criticism. Love you all, stay safe! &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was the 25 of June and the Summer’s heat was scorching hot. Never before had they experienced this much heat up to 90 degrees on a bad day. It was burning and the air was heavy and sticky with the prevalent musky smells of hormonal teenagers running amuck. For being seated in a school bus they were quite active. </p>
<p>The school bus pulled up to a ragged old log cabin, it was a nice building, it was rustic but well kept so there were no holes in its roof. Besides the building, there were four people around their mid to late forties, each one of them held a clipping board and dressed in a deep military green uniform. Their uniform was a green vest, a red T-shirt, matching green shorts, and the same tan cap with the camp’s logo on it. </p>
<p>The sweaty teenagers climbed down the bus, chugging behind them luggage and bags. </p>
<p>“Welcome everyone to your first day at Westside Lake Summer Camp! My name is Ella Tompson, and I am your Camp Manager, so if you have any complaints come to me. First things first, let’s get you sorted into your cabins. If you look at the board, there is a list of names for who is in your cabin. If you see your name on the list stand by your board and put your colored hat on. Yes, you get free hats! Now, on to some camp rules….”</p>
<p>The last person on the bus slowly climbed down. He was a thin boy with ink-black curls that looked chocolate brown in the sunlight, and he had pale blue eyes that pierced everything they gazed at. He was wearing a white T-shirt and black knee-length shorts. He looked uncomfortable in the lack of clothing. Normally he was used to wearing more layers and formal attire. </p>
<p>Everyone around him was abuzz with excitement for staying 3 whole months at this camp; this boy wasn’t. He didn’t want to come but, his parents forced him to go, saying, “It would be good for him to have a break.”</p>
<p>The only thing good this was for, was to ruin his pale white skin and turn it into a deep burnt cinnamon-brown tan or a crimson burning rash. Both outcomes; terrible. He did not look good with a tan. </p>
<p>The campsite itself was a lovely area. It was surrounded by deep woods, with the occasional bright sunlight slipping through the evergreen branches that hung over the campsite. It was a very rustic and folktale, picturesque place. There were great oaks and evergreens. Pine trees, spruces, and firs. Squirrels and bears dominated the wilderness beyond the fences. It was very green and bright. Behind the building, you could see a blinding glimmer of silver lines reflecting on the lake’s water. The lake was the main selling point to the campsite.<br/> Behind the lake was the mountainous landscape. It looked more like flatforms in the background with little to no distinguishable features over the peaked grey shapes. Somewhere in the woods, there was a small creek, a cave, and a waterfall but those were off-limits to the people staying at the campsite.  Since these places were “much too dangerous.” </p>
<p>The boy was set on finding these places after dark, for serenity and peace. Also, a little danger can add a lot more to spending three whole months putting glitter on pine cones. </p>
<p>The boy silently walked over to the boards. He read the list, then moved on. There was no need to start giggling in anticipation of a cabin’s color like all the others were. He then stopped at the blue cabin’s board, he read his name. This one was his. He read the other names to see if he knew any of the other people with whom he was to share a room. He read:</p>
<p>“Lestrade, Greg.”<br/>“Anderson, Philp.”<br/>“Jeffery, Tom.”<br/>“Watson, John.”</p>
<p>He knew Lestrade, they shared the same English and History classes together. They weren’t exactly friends, more like mutual acquaintances. If Greg needed assistance on homework, he would help but, at the cost of money or bus tickets. Anderson, on the other hand, was a pathetic and annoying “enemy.” He didn’t hate Anderson, it just was that Philp was quite bothersome and lacked the intelligence to think ahead. Although, Anderson would be pretentious and act like he knew the answers to the assignments or tests. </p>
<p>The other two names, he did not know them. They probably were from other classes or were new to the high school. Then again he didn’t have many contacts with other people that have no purpose to him. So, he probably has just forgotten about their existence. </p>
<p>“Hey, Sherlock!” A familiar voice yelled.</p>
<p>The raven-haired boy spun around. </p>
<p>“Yes? Um...I literally just read your name. Hold on….Is it Gabe?”</p>
<p>“It’s Greg.”</p>
<p>“I was close.”</p>
<p>“No, you weren’t. Anyway, we're sharing a cabin! That’s great. I was worried that I was going to end up sleeping next to complete strangers. Thank god, you're here. I at least have someone to talk to. Oh, and now that we share a cabin, I am going to finally find out how you get your curls to stay that bouncy,” Greg said cheerfully and in an attempt at a joke. </p>
<p>“Um….my curls are like this because of genetics,” Sherlock said uncomfortably. </p>
<p>“I thought you had some kind of special shampoo or something?” Greg said, trying to drag the joke.</p>
<p>“Why do you care about my curls?”</p>
<p>“No particular reason. Besides I heard that the Cabin Groups are teams for the games and sports later on. So, I guess we are going to play dodgeball or something?” </p>
<p>“You mean physical activity? Now, my summer has gotten a whole lot worse.”</p>
<p>“Cheer up, you downer. It will be fun,” Greg said as he slapped Sherlock’s shoulder. </p>
<p>“Oh, got to go. See you later!” Greg then walked away.</p>
<p>Sherlock was not excited for what was to come this summer at all. This was one of the reasons why. </p>
<p>He just stood there uncomfortably. He didn’t know what to do now. </p>
<p>“Okay, campers! Time to go and get settled into your Cabins. The color of your group’s hat is also the color of your cabin door. So, if you have a red hat go to the red-doored cabin. Pretty straight-forward. Each cabin has a two-sink counter. There’s also a small bathroom; you have to share it. Don’t get territorial people, it’s everyone’s space. Showers are outside, down that path. We have a shower schedule on the wall for what cabins shower when. Only shower when it’s your cabin’s turn. Red and Yellow shower in the mornings and, Blue and Green in the nights. There are no closets, all your clothes are to be stored in your luggage bags. Now that, that’s clear. Go and settle in,” Ella said. </p>
<p>“What? Who showers at night?” Sherlock said out of frustration. </p>
<p>“I know right,” a warm, friendly voice said behind him. </p>
<p>Sherlock turned. He saw a golden-haired boy with bright blue-green eyes, and a small pleasant smile. The boy even had soft freckles scattered around his nose. In the evening light, every freckle on his face shone like light brown stars on his slightly tanned complexion. This boy was wearing a light cream jumper and dark blue denim shorts. He had on the blue cap, all-white sneakers, and a brown braided leather bracelet. The bracelet was probably a gift from a family member; a sister or brother not a cousin. The member had to be young, it didn’t look like something an older person would pick out. It was real leather and was slightly worn, but the way the boy pulled at looked like he wasn’t used to wearing it. So it was a second-hand gift. The sister or brother must have used it, then gave it away to him. Brother then, it was a very masculine bracelet. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sherlock lost in his deduction on the rugged, natural boy, was just staring at him blankly. </p>
<p>“Hi, I’m in the blue cabin. Are you in blue or green? You know night showers,” the boy said, a little repressed and nervously. He seemed the more shy type that everyone liked but never bothered to actually make friends with. Nonetheless, he was rather dashing trying to make small talk with the most antisocial person here. Alas, Sherlock’s sharp reputation probably did not pursue this unknown boy, or maybe he was just friendly to everyone. Uneducated or ignorant? That was what Sherlock had to find out. </p>
<p>“I’m in the blue cabin as well,” Sherlock was attempting to be as vague as possible. </p>
<p>“Great, we share a cabin!” he said brightly as he rubbed the back of his neck and slightly blushed.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Sherlock said. He was uncertain of whether or not the boy did blush, or was it the uneven afternoon lighting. </p>
<p>“I’m John. John Watson,” he said as he pushed a hand out to shake Sherlock’s. </p>
<p>“Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes,” he gingerly accepted the handshake. Physical contact, ugh.</p>
<p>A long, awkward silence later.  </p>
<p>“So, want to go unpack?” John said nodding his head towards the cabins.</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“Don’t speak much, do you?” </p>
<p>They started to walk in unison towards the blue doored cabin. </p>
<p>“No, not much. Sometimes I go without speaking for days. I only talk when things need to be said,” Sherlock said. </p>
<p>“Hmm, not a people person, then?” </p>
<p>“No, not a people person.” </p>
<p>“Oh, I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable. I can stop talking if you’d prefer that,” John offered kindly. </p>
<p>“No, no it’s...fine,” Sherlock said. </p>
<p>They made eye contact for an unnecessary prolonged amount of time. The corner of John’s pink lip curled up into a weak smile. </p>
<p>This summer was going to be terrible and tedious but, maybe also a little exciting...just maybe.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter Two: A Study in Camp</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The continuation of Chapter One.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, all my lovely Sherlockians and precious readers. It has been a really long time since I last updated and, I hope you all will forgive me for the over-due chapter. But, I promise you that it is worth it. I hope you all enjoy this bundle of fluff and pop a comment down below. I would love to know what you think and, please leave a kudos too. Kudos are my motivation to write. I did post chapter two earlier last month but, I thought it fell flat so, I rewrote it. This is the new and improved version. Enjoy, and have a wonderful day/night. </p>
<p>Love you all! &lt;3! </p>
<p>Chapter three will be posted on Tuesday or March 9th! Stay tuned!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sherlock has never been asked to be company for anyone. This was quite unusual, people thought he was rude and arrogant and typically stayed clear of him. This John Watson however didn’t seem to mind his presence much. It could possibly be because he has no idea who Sherlock was. Even so, there they were chatting. </p>
<p>Then John motioned for them to head to the cabin. So they went off to walk together in unison, derailing from the main dirt pathway and going down a smaller path towards their new cabin. They climbed up the small steps of the deep, wooden porch. Then walked up to the blue door. Both were nervous and brimming in anticipation. Holding their breath awaiting the unexpected. They were about to enter their new space. Sherlock rested his hand on the cool rusted knob of the cabin door and glanced at John. Who gave him a subtle nod of approval. </p>
<p>He turned the copper doorknob and carefully pushed open the fraying and chipping blue door.</p>
<p>When the door opened they were greeted immediately with an intoxicating dusty smell. In the summer’s heat, it smelled more rusted and musty. Familiar to that old smell you get when you open an old book. They practically saw an army of invading dust particles floating and swaying in the thick air. </p>
<p>Although the air of the cabin was still and dusty, it was quite homely. It was as though time had stopped and it welcomed them to eternal summer heat and glowing livelihood. It was an atmosphere that was unforgettable but not really noticeable; a hidden treasure to those who feel it. The cabin had an aroma of welcoming; sweet and rustic. John approved of it, and he could get used to staying here.  </p>
<p>When Sherlock and John stepped into the cabin there was one obvious thing that stood out to them both; the cabin was quite spacious but it wasn’t in any way a big room. This was going to get harsh fast. Adrenaline-packed boys in a small space is a recipe for disaster. This was simple logic and inevitable. </p>
<p>So into the battlefield, they go….</p>
<p>They took a look around and it became apparent that the room was not very intricate or intriguing. It was very bland.  Everything in the room was a shade of brown or tan wood, all except for the blue door that was the barrier between the main bedroom and the small bathroom, and the deep blue rug in the center. Next to the door was a double sink, it looked renovated enough to the point where the water that was disposed from its spouts wasn’t going to be brown and muddy. Although, the plumbing here was not to be trusted and the tap water not to be drunken. </p>
<p>Above the sink were cabinets, each labeled with the name of the cabinmates. These were when they were to store their shampoos and conditioners. It demonstrated how the poor design in this room was going to be bothersome; having to store your personal toiletries above a shared sink was not particularly well thought out. </p>
<p>The main noticeable thing was the two bunk beds. They were tall, sturdy, and reliable. But, the mattresses looked cheap and solid. Sherlock could practically feel the backaches and terrible nights to be sent sleeping in that bed. The worst part was the wilt and waved form of the mattress as it had taken the shape of the many other campers who had slept there many summers ago.</p>
<p>There was also a single bed. This bed was reserved for the Blue Cabin’s Director. The director was the one to make sure that space was divided evenly and shower schedules were followed and was to be the Team’s Captain when they were playing the sports games later on. This bed and the position of Director was reserved for the unknown and infamous Tom. The room was only large enough to spare enough space for two side tables, each drawer for one of the cabin mates, and atop the brown surfaces two warm-colored desk lamps that illuminated yellow light. </p>
<p>Sherlock decided to opt for the corner top bunk since there was a small open window beside it that he could look out of in the early breaking dawns and cool twilight nights. He wasn’t much of a sleeper, so having a window would satisfy his bored mind at night. </p>
<p>John took the lower bunk underneath Sherlock’s and started to unpack. He took out his luggage bag and started pulling out his blankets and sheets. And he stored a couple of his things in the bedside table. <br/>...</p>
<p>Anderson and Greg were already in here. Anderson had claimed the other top bunk and Greg had the other lower one. Anderson had already attempted to dominate the room by posting up his posters of bikini girls or some type of anime fandom he was into. He was very obsessive like that. He had a fandom club at their high school; thank god it was shut down by the administration for being a tad bit inappropriate because of what the fandoms contented. </p>
<p>Greg, on the other hand, was setting his bottom bunk with new bedding. Clearly annoyed at Anderson’s posters. </p>
<p>“Oi, Anderson! Quit trying to make the whole wall into a porno magazine! I don’t want you to have a wet dream while I’m sleeping right under you!” Greg said. </p>
<p>“If I’m going to stay here for the summer at least give me creative freedom,” Anderson fired back. </p>
<p>“That’s what this is ‘creative freedom?’” Greg said, his mouth open in clear disgust and disbelief.</p>
<p>“Shut up! Everyone just shut up! I’m trying to think!” Sherlock said, his baritone voice cutting into the conversation. They all stopped talking and drew their eyes to Sherlock's top bunk. Sherlock was unpacking but, stopped mid-way to address the childish feud that unraveled from the top bunk across from his. The fact that he stopped his work, showed how agitated he was. </p>
<p>“Oh, great. Who let the freak in? If I have to sleep in the same room as this guy, I’d rather sleep in the woods with the bears,” Anderson said. </p>
<p>“Hey! What’s your problem? What’d he ever do to you? And I back him up, you’re getting annoying Philip,” John said. </p>
<p>“Don’t call me Philip! And if you had to share Math, Chemistry, and Biology with this stuck up then you’d be wishing him out too! He’s a bloody psychopath and a cold-hearted bastard,” Anderson said.</p>
<p>“Yeah? And what makes you say that? Are you reading so much shit on the internet that you are starting to believe that every one different than ordinary people, like you, who are killers? Haha, very funny Philip,” John lashed out at Anderson. </p>
<p>“No! But, that thing can tell you who you've slept with by only looking at you! That’s not normal, he’s mental and I don’t want to share a room with someone who can ‘kill and dispose of your body in 1,000 innovative ways.’ Who the hell would say that?” Anderson pointedly accused Sherlock. </p>
<p>“Yeah, well right now I’m thinking the same,” John said. </p>
<p>“Well, that makes two psychopaths. Hope you can be happy together killing people far away from me,” Anderson said. </p>
<p>“I am not a killer! Although, that doesn’t mean I won’t kick your arse till you bleed,” John threatened, “So, shut up.” </p>
<p>“As if, psycho! You didn’t have a perfect record all through high school, did you? Would you like me to spill the tea to the entire cabin?” Anderson sneered. </p>
<p>“Blackmail? Really? Philip, you can do so much better than that. I thought you were more creative,” John said with a sarcastic laugh. </p>
<p>“Oh, so you wouldn’t mind if I told them all the details abo-” Anderson started, but John cut him off before he could continue. </p>
<p>“Oh, that’s it! Philip, you shut your mouth and take that back, or I will end you,” John said, rolling up his jumper’s wool sleeves. He was getting ready to get up the bunk and knock him clean across the face just at the right angle to make his nose bleed. </p>
<p>“Make me!” Anderson challenged with a smug grin. He slid down like a slimy eel and was smiling widely in mockery. John was seething and was prepared to hurt him. He clenched his fists tighter until his knuckles turned white and his palms red. He lifted his fist and was about to yell back when a baritone voice interjected. </p>
<p>“John! No, it’s not worth it,” Sherlock said. </p>
<p>“Yeah, listen to him. Anderson may be a jerk but, if you punch him they’ll put you on a penalty and you’d probably get sent home,” Greg said, trying to be reasonable. </p>
<p>John put his fist down. They were right and he probably was overreacting. He took a deep breath. Trying his best to calm down and forget about Anderson. John occupied his hands by pulling his things out of his bag and organizing his space. Death staring Anderson down the whole time with a fury that could practically kill someone. Sherlock felt tinged about the whole situation. He wondered why John was so quick to defend him, they had just only met. It was kind of...flattering. </p>
<p>….</p>
<p>The rest of the day carried slowly by. Time here at Camp WestSide Lake seemed to always standstill. Sherlock didn’t mind this; he enjoyed finally having enough time to process his ever racing mind. Which oddly enough was quieted. This was the first time he had time and space to let his mind wander into peace. He liked it here; he never thought he would say that but, alas here he is enjoying the camp. It wasn’t perfect and very much flawed, but it was serene. </p>
<p>It was lunch and Sherlock and John sat at an outdoor picnic table. He poked at the carrots on his plate with his fork. Resting his stone-cold expressed face into the palm of his hand, his mind craving something exciting to work upon; it was peaceful but also boring here. He locked eyes with John. John smiled back with glowing eyes and a soft curiosity. John licked his lips and slightly leaned in over the table. </p>
<p>“Hey? You bored,” John whispered, for only Sherlock to hear. </p>
<p>“Yeah. I haven’t had this much time to just...exist. It’s so boring,” Sherlock replied. His face melting into one of attentiveness and wonderment. </p>
<p>“I heard that we’re having a bonfire at 6. After lunch is over, then it’s crafting for three hours. Why don’t we take a hike and then come back for the bonfire? No one wants to do crafting, anyway,” John winked. The crinkles in the corners of his eyes and his nasolabial folds beaming with pure joy and a taste of mischievous hidden beneath. </p>
<p>“You’re...asking me to run off into the woods with you?” Sherlock's eyes widened. He was bemused and shocked; it was a mixture. This doesn’t typically happen to him, and now that it has he didn’t know how to react. </p>
<p>“Um...when you put it that way...I guess I am?” John’s bright star eyes fluttered down and he bit his bottom lip. His cheeks flushing into a light shade of pink. He looked adorable and flustered.</p>
<p>“Yes, I would love to go. But, where would we hike up to?” Sherlock asked. He was testing the waters. </p>
<p>“Nowhere in particular unless, you have an idea of where you want to end up,” John said, “I-I-mean not like that! I just meant if you wanted to go down to the lake or something. Not to bed...you know what I mean.”</p>
<p>Now he was really blushing. </p>
<p>“I know you meant nothing of the sort. We’ll just see where we end up hiking to. Let’s go,” Sherlock stood up and extended a thin paled hand out to John. </p>
<p>John blinked and accepted the hand. Then he stood up. There they were; hand in hand. Sherlock turned and led the way. They left the bright sunny open yard of the campsite and were heading towards the woods. Into the oaky land filled with shadows; John's heart was held in his chest. He stopped breathing; there was no need to since there was so much life around him to keep him alive. </p>
<p>He took a risk and it had paid off. </p>
<p>…</p>
<p>They walked slowly side by side. Down a dirt path that was leading down a grove of oak and pine trees. There were also a couple of redwood pines littered in the trail mixture of forest trees. It seemed so beautiful and it smelled charming. Like fresh pine needles, warm summer days, must, flowers, and it had a moist quality that added a mossy mystic. John felt like he belonged here. Weird he never was much of a wilderness guy; that can change. </p>
<p>Sherlock trotted beside him; he looked like he was really enjoying himself. His dark curls bouncing in the afternoon light, he was light and so utterly perfect. John wanted to caress the side of his cheek. He bit down hard on his lip and swallowed down that thought. He was so glad he didn’t say that out loud. </p>
<p>“So, do you want to walk down this path in silence or do you want to have a chat?” Sherlock asked, his peaceful pale blue eyes scanning John’s aster blue ones. </p>
<p>“Oh, look at you. The anti-social is asking for a chat,” John jokingly smiled. </p>
<p>“John, don’t make me change my mind,” Sherlock defensively shielded. </p>
<p>“No, I was just joking. It’s nice to see you branch out, please, let’s have a chat,” John pleaded, a look of encouragement born on his face. </p>
<p>“I don’t know if it’s too late but, I just wanted to thank you,” Sherlock said. </p>
<p>“Thank me for what?” John asked. </p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Sherlock ran a hand through his curls, “I wanted to thank you for what you did back there; Defending me from Anderson. You didn’t have too and not a lot of people would have. But, it was a really nice gesture.” </p>
<p>“Oh, I really did have to. No one ever sticks up to jerks like Philip. And it looked like you were used to taking the shit people like him say. I wanted to change that,” John smiled back at Sherlock. </p>
<p>“Hmm, you're really nice. But you don’t have to be nice to me because I’m alone. It’s fine that I’m solitary. I shouldn’t be a problem you have to fix, or a burden, when I start acting more..me,” Sherlock said, his face tinting and falling; losing its joy slightly. </p>
<p>“You’re not a burden or something I have to fix,” John stopped walking and turned to face him, “And, I want to be your friend, not because you’re alone but, because I think you’re interesting and I want to get to know you more.” </p>
<p>“John, I don’t know if I’m even friend material,” Sherlock said, shifting from foot to foot. All of a sudden his throat grew dry. </p>
<p>“Well, no one’s friend material until they've found the right friend. I know I never thought I’d ever want to be friends with anybody. I mean, like really good friends. Although, I think you’d make the cut.,” John winked at Sherlock. </p>
<p>“Okay, I’ll make an exception for you. But, if I’m nothing like what you thought I was, let’s just say, I warned you,” Sherlock said as he slowly started to walk again. </p>
<p>John went with him, smiling brightly. His smile was as warm as this summer’s day. It was lifting to see Sherlock actually thinking about opening up. Although they had only known each other for a couple of hours, John had a way to read people. And he knew Sherlock was more the reserved type but, he also knew that he wasn’t a bad person. Maybe, he could even be a good one. </p>
<p>“Oh, I hope you surprise me,” John said, as he brushed a low hanging branch of a willow tree out of the way. </p>
<p>“What exactly does that mean?” Sherlock asked, he eyed John suspiciously. </p>
<p>“You said that you might not be what I expected. I hope so, the most fun people are those who are unique and unpredictable,” John said. </p>
<p>“Even..dangerous people?” Sherlock asked. </p>
<p>“Sure, I see why not. They can be the most interesting of the bunch, actually,” John said with a light chuckle. John’s chuckle was sweet and golden. It sounded like honey to Sherlock.</p>
<p>They continued their walk in silence. John tried to look at the trees and observe the natural crooked and grooved nature of the trunk’s bark. He tried his best to concentrate on the path and woodlands before him but his eyes betrayed him, for they kept falling on Sherlock. </p>
<p>Sherlock's mind had awoken. Did John want to be friends? He was at war with himself trying to deduce this situation. Did John not mind it if he was a little...odd? There were so many more poking questions. But he gave them up; it wasn’t worth ruining the moment. He’ll just see where the wind takes him, and if the wind decided that John was going to be another camper who didn’t understand him, then, so be it. Sherlock was used to being given up on, by this point. </p>
<p>….</p>
<p>In this lighting, Sherlock’s raven hair appeared a deep chocolate brown and his silky complexion, shielded in the shadows, looked pale and marble-like. His pale eyes are eternal and light like the blue sky above. Something about him seemed captivating and- If John was being bold- Sherlock seemed almost hypnotizing. His mannerisms were cold and calculated yet, in his eyes there was a glow of humanity. There was a human in that armor of defiance. And behind those blue glass-eyes were very human thoughts, many flying thoughts all of them going at the speed of light. </p>
<p>Sherlock was a spectacle but not only so, and John wanted to know what was laying underneath. </p>
<p>Sherlock continued to gaze at the scenery, taking in the warm atmosphere. Every breath filled with the luscious smell of the forest. Basking in the whimsical wood surroundings. Every now and then, he’d steal a glance at John. And every time John would be smiling back. It was touching to Sherlock. He didn’t know why but, it made his mind rest and his heart race. Pounding and lashing in the happiest way possible. Peace blanketing them both. </p>
<p>“It’s almost 6. We’d better head back or we’re going to miss the bonfire,” John said checking his watch. </p>
<p>“Okay, let’s head back,” Sherlock said. </p>
<p>They both turned and headed the way they came down the small dirt path. This time it wasn’t so peaceful, it was more ecstatic. They exchanged jokes and smiled. Indulging in frivolous fits of laughter and breaking into small talk. John was captivating to Sherlock. But, Sherlock couldn’t help but wonder how long this would last. He shouldn’t get too attached. </p>
<p>Blissful as it was; their pocket of time to themselves was broken as soon as they came back to camp. At sunset, the camp was an entirely different place. The ambiance was shifted to one that could only be described as bursting obnoxiously. It seemed everyone here had found their friend group and were now opening up into the chaotic loud booming excitement. </p>
<p>Annoying as it was, it was also very exciting. John and Sherlock had entered into the new world and relished in it. Falling back to earth from their private afternoon into the shared evening of the campsite. Shifting and shaping into a more present self. </p>
<p>“Welcome back to camp,” John said smiling. </p>
<p>The walls Sherlock held collapsed as he smiled back. He was going to enjoy this no matter what happened next, and maybe who knows, John could be exactly who Sherlock needed to meet. That all was going to be decided at the bonfire. </p>
<p>...</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Wow, wasn't that fluffy? If it wasn't enough fluff to satisfy your cravings, then, not to fear! Chapter three is even more fluffy than this! The next chapter will be posted on Tuesday, March 9th! Can't wait to see what you all think about the bonfire night! Hope you enjoyed and feel free to comment and kudos! Thank you all for the support and for helping me reach my goal of 15 kudos! You are all the sweetest! Till next time...<br/>&lt;3!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Three: Bonfire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The long-awaited bonfire scene! I hope it was fluffy enough for you all~</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Voila! Chapter three on time, I actually followed my own schedule and was able to produce this for all of you to enjoy. I hope it is fluffy, I'm trying to get better at writing fluff and pining. I would love to know what you all thought of the chapter and if you would like to read more like this. Also, if you enjoyed this please leave a kudos. Kudos are my life, literally. Well, somethings got to keep us going in life. Anyway, thank you all for reading and stay safe! </p><p>Thx, 221B_bored~</p><p>&lt;3!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They followed the rampaging crowd that was being escorted down a path they haven’t been down before. Soon, they came up to a thicker part of the woods where the trees were well stocked and their bark was dense. There in the middle of this clearing was a huge outdoor chimney fireplace. It was a brick-red cave structure and it was stocked with logs; the fire was temerarious. Fighting to spread its power into the night. </p><p>It was getting chilly, the heat washing out along with the sun leaving them under a crisp purple sky. The forest was now springing to life; the critters in the distance cawing and scampering. Whispering about were gnats and small bugs basking and playing in the fire’s heat. In the deep black shadows where the small starry lights of gentle fireflies; blinking and flashing. They foreshadowed the black midnight sky, that was yet to come.</p><p>It was so warm and cosy here; similar to the homely atmosphere the cabin had, although, this was a grander version. They took a seat on a split log bench next to the farthest left side of the brick chimney. The bench was barely made for two so their shoulders brushed lightly. The softness of the cream jumper taunting Sherlock’s exposed arm. </p><p>They were so close to the yellow flames that they could practically touch them, but that was no match for the freezing nights of camp. A chilling breeze whisked past them, impending them in a chilly fever. The wind lifting goosebumps on Sherlock’s pale skin. He shivered slightly, trying his best to fight his body’s response to the cold. He was not one to show weakness to human evolution. But, alas the wind has gotten the better of him. </p><p>He wrapped himself closer in his arms trying to preserve and absorb as much heat as he could from the fire. John noticed Sherlock’s shivering. He shuffled on the small bench pulling up his cream jumper and he handed it to Sherlock. Sherlock turned and stared blankly and John. He blinked a couple of times before gingerly accepting the jumper. </p><p>“Thanks,” he said with a small smile. He put on the jumper, pulling the soft wool over his black curls. It was a bit short for him stopping midway through his torso, but it did the job. It was a very comfortable jumper but the best part was the smell. It smelled sweet of bergamot and sandalwood. Faintly the smell of cologne was still lingering, infused with the fibres. </p><p> </p><p>Now shielded from the cold winds with the jumper, they sat there still as the tree trunks behind them. The tension and stiffness were odd in comparison with the movement and lucidness of the other campers around them. But, knowing that Sherlock was right there next to him was comforting in itself and it eased the tension.

</p><p>John then got up and went to go get from a table nearby some chocolate, graham crackers, and marshmallows. He hoisted the marshmallow on the end of his stick and started to roast it. Sherlock pulling out a dark chocolate bar. </p><p>Although they had spent the entire day in each other’s presence now, it felt different and...perfectly sound. John gazed at the fire; the bright crackling flames reflected in John’s eyes so that you could see the flames’ image whip and slash at each crisp gentle breeze. </p><p>The other yelling teenagers that also occupied the campsite, had all melted into the background becoming silent and still to them as the surrounding trees. The night sky peaking above the evergreen tree's spikes blocked the clearing from the forest and fortressed them from the wilderness beyond. </p><p>It was so quiet to these two, that they could hear the sounds of nature that no one else there could. They heard the hidden beauty that leaked from the shadows, the crickets chirping and the subtle popping sounds that the fire spurted. In the distance, you could hear the owls singing to the night. Their only light source was the bonfire, the flames now reaching new peaks, grasping for the stars above. The fire was mocking the darkness in its dance and warning the creatures in the woods that it was here as the sole protector of the campsite. </p><p>Together they stared at the fire and made secret wishes, and told secret stories to themselves only; tales of how they had ended up here in the woods.</p><p>“So, why’d you come to summer camp? You don’t seem like the type that would go camping much,” John asked as he rotated his marshmallow right above the fire’s wicked flames trying to get an even coating of tan colouring on the pale white fluff perched at the end of his stick. </p><p>“I didn’t want to come here. It was my parents’ idea. They said that I needed a break and shouldn’t get an internship at the lab just for this one summer. They wanted me to relax and breathe something other than chemicals brewing in a beaker. I missed out what could’ve been a life-changing scholarship opportunity there at the lab,” Sherlock said looking deep into John’s blue eyes. He took a bite of a bar of dark chocolate. </p><p>“Hmm, that’s a shame. Well...if you did go then, you probably wouldn’t have met me so, I’m going to have to thank your parents for that. But, you do know they are right. You look tense and unhappy sometimes. It’s summer break so have a break. And I know something must be bothering you but, don’t let it. You don’t have to enjoy everything here and get obsessed with nature or feel pressured that you have to have fun. But, it wouldn’t hurt to smile a little. Heck, maybe you’d like it?” John said. He reeled in the marshmallow and sandwiched it between two graham crackers with chocolate. </p><p>“Here. I haven’t seen you eat anything today at lunch. I know it’s not the healthiest thing ever but, it’s something” He said, handing over the s’more. </p><p>Sherlock stared at the offering. The s’more innocently staring back at him. He was very much tempted to have a taste. </p><p>“Umm, thanks but-” </p><p>John pushed the s’more closer. The warm smell luring him to try it. John looked at him pleadingly; eyes wide and biting the inside of his lip, “Please. It wouldn’t hurt, that I can promise you.”</p><p>“Fine. Just one. The last thing I want is a sugar addiction to these….things,” Sherlock reached for the s’more and picked it up. The chocolate dripped down the side of the marshmallow, the delectable graham cracker tilted to one side. He took a bite. The taste of the marshmallow now was contaminated and infused with the red cedar wood’s smell, giving it a lovely taste. Evoking nostalgia although, he’s never been camping as a child.</p><p>“Wow...that’s sweet and could potentially be very addicting,” He looked at John. </p><p>“It’s just a s’more.”</p><p>“I know. But, still, I’ve never had one before.”</p><p>“A lot of blokes around here haven’t. One year, my family and I went camping in the states, Yosemite National Park in California. This nice lady taught us how to make s’mores, and that’s when I had my first one. They’re good, but not capable of having too many,” John said. </p><p>“They are a very American thing...I don’t know if that’s a good thing,” Sherlock said tilting the s’more trying to get a good look at its gooey texture. </p><p>“Hmm,” John hummed, a gentle smile warming up within him and playing across his face. He felt somewhat responsible for the care and security of this black-haired boy. Even if it was only the first day of camp. Something in him was telling John that maybe no one has ever truly cared for Sherlock and the first step to getting him to open up is seeing someone else open. John was going to fill in that role of,  ‘someone else.’ </p><p>“So how’d you end up here in the wilderness for the entirety of your summer vacation?” Sherlock said, trying to change the subject. </p><p>“Well, I don’t know. Back when I was about 5 and before my parents changed for the worst, they would take me and some of my childhood friends out camping. And I guess seeing the filer for Camp Westside Lake, I thought that it would be good to get away from them and relive a sort of remembrance or at least salute to my better youth. Something, sweet like that. I am proud to say that it’s working, and I haven’t thought of them at all, up until now. But, it’s fine. I’m not going to worry about them and I am going to enjoy myself. And so are you. In the end, I guess this place might suck but, it sure beats joining the army or getting an internship at a lab,” John said brightly. </p><p>John was now star gazing. Absorbing the twilling sky as though he could fly up there to be one amongst the many bright stars that night.  In Sherlock’s opinion, he didn’t need to fly anywhere to be a bright shining star. </p><p>“Sure beats it,” Sherlock nodded in agreement as he took another bite of the sickenly sweet s’more. </p><p>Sherlock faced John. The ambient warm glow that the fire produced lighting Sherlock’s pale blue eyes making them appear a pale yellow colour. As the flame danced and fell, the uneven warm lighting became a subject of Sherlock’s kaleidoscope eyes. Turning from blue to yellow then back to blue; flames flickering across the expressionless face manipulating the colour of his dilated eyes. It was strikingly beautiful. John’s heart swelled at the sight of his cabinmate. There was something blissful and surreal about this. He wanted to stay here forever but couldn't quite put a finger on why. </p><p>“So, I want to get to know you more. More than I already do. Do you have any hobbies?” John said. He was slightly leaning right, subtly moving his shoulder closer to Sherlock’s. Their shoulders now were pressed close together. The distance between them dissolving as the tension in their hearts grew. </p><p>“I like chemistry and do choose to study it but, it’s not really much of a hobby. I play the Violin and sometimes compose my own works. Playing helps me think and sometimes feel. I also like the science of deduction and want to be a detective when I come of age,” he said casually. </p><p>“Hmmm...that’s nice,” John said quietly. His eyes dropping heavily with sleep but hidden underneath was a subtle glow reminiscent of content or longing. “I want to be a doctor and am working towards college but I don't know where yet. And I don’t have many hobbies. I used to play rugby but quit recently because I'm trying to focus all my attention on schoolwork. I guess I am thinking about joining the military but I am not so sure anymore. And I have always wanted to play an instrument but, that’s apparently not really my thing. I can’t play the flute for the life of me,” John said warmly with an only warmer smile. His head dropped downwards as he stared at Sherlock. He placed his elbow on his knee and cupped the side of his face gently to support his new position. He looked evermore adorable gazing up like this. Sherlock took another bite of the s’more in order to break eye contact. But the break only lasted five seconds, his eyes had found their way back to John’s. </p><p>John’s eyes were the brightest blue but, in the firelight, they looked tinged with a greenish underlying glow. The irises were waterlike as they flexed and mimicked the lake’s subtle rocking movement. They were as murky deep and mesmerizingly bright as the waters of the lake were. How Sherlock wished he could swim into the depths of his eyes. More than he was now anyway. </p><p>Sherlock chuckled deeply as he offered a bar of milk-chocolate to John. John reached and accepted the bar while, skillfully maintaining the balance of his elbow on his knee. </p><p>“So, why don’t you have many friends?” John asked. </p><p>“Because they usually call me a freak when I deduce them or they stay clear of me because of how I’m incapable of being normal and participating in society’s standards. People are terrified of things they don’t understand. Quite bland people are,” Sherlock said. </p><p>“How does this ‘deducing’ thing work?” </p><p>“I can tell that you have an older brother who has gifted you your leather bracelet. Brother because of how masculine it is. It’s old so they gave it to you because they no longer wanted it. But, why would you give away something so fine? It's because that's a regift and your brother probably received it from a loved one. Fiance or Wife going by how it’s branded and a valentine’s day edition released in Italy. I can tell from the leather. So, if he gave it to you then they must have split. But, he would’ve kept it for sentimental reasons, so he left her. And by the way, it’s stained and a faint smell of...rum, is it? It must mean that he’s an alcoholic and spilt countless drinks on his bracelet. You don’t approve of the drinking because you've attempted to hide the smell with fresh cologne but it still smells like rum. Although you still love him and that is why you choose to wear the bracelet instead of throwing it out,” Sherlock rambled. </p><p>“...Brilliant! That’s brilliant!” John’s eyes widened. Making the lake waters hide behind the dominating pupil. </p><p>“Really, you think so?” </p><p>“Yes absolutely! But, you did get one thing wrong,” John said a sneaky playful smile defining his face. </p><p>“I usually always do. What was it?” </p><p>“I don’t have a brother. She’s my sister and she did leave her fiance two days after their engagement party because of the unstable drinking.”</p><p>“Sister! I always get something wrong!”</p><p>“Don’t beat yourself up about it pretty boy,” John said with a light punch to Sherlock’s right shoulder. </p><p>“....pretty boy?”</p><p>John was blushing a fiery crimson now. He pulled his head up and dropped his arm down, repositioning himself to a normal sitting position. His lake blue eyes grew wider and he flustered. Now tugging furiously at the leather bracelet on his wrist. </p><p>“It’s an expression. I didn’t mean it like I thought you were pretty-which you are! But, I don’t think of it in that way! It kind of rolled off my tongue there. It’s fine, it’s all fine,” John said, rubbing the back of his head, smearing the sweat that was camping there. The space between their shoulders now had increasingly grown distant as John was pulling himself out of the conversation. He was now about to get up, setting his feet firmly on the dirt ground trying to find the balance for his legs to stabilize himself for take-off.</p><p>“It’s fine. It’s just that I don’t usually get told that…” Sherlock said, with a gentle nod of assurance.</p><p>“What do people usually tell you?” John turned to face him, abandoning his plans to leave.</p><p>“Piss off.”</p><p>They started giggling together. The peaceful warmth restored its former glory. They sat there staring at each other in the firelight. The lake blue eyes locked onto the pale blue ones; It felt as though they were having a conversation without words. </p><p>…</p><p>The fire continued to burn throughout the night, but now it died down and the flames were wilting. The warmth is only a soft caress now. They had chatted for a bit steading into the blissful warmth. John rocked back onto the bench, their shoulders still almost touching now. </p><p>John licked his lips and was leaning into the warmth of the space between them. He could feel Sherlock's heavy breath tickling at his face. John looked at Sherlock furrowing his eyebrows as though asking for permission. Sherlock slightly nodded. Every muscle in his body tense and stiffened. Thoughts rushed through his head as the cherry pink lips were growing closer to his cupid bow ones. They were hovering right next to each other and quivering in indecisiveness. Sherlock was prepared for what he knew was going to happen, his heart raced as he awaited the moment. He was starting to lean in slightly too. </p><p>John leaned in closely, eyes closed. John’s breathing hitched and his bottom lip quivered. He was so close to Sherlock that he could smell him, his fresh scent of freshly cut grass and lavender. He could feel him too, his presence was warmer than anything. Sherlock looked so perfect and porcelain in the moonlight. John opened his mouth slightly and was ready. His heart thumped as he got closer to the black-haired boy. He was like a magnetic force that John has succumbed to. But a stronger force was holding them still; they were two magnetics trying to reach each other through a thick pane of glass. </p><p>John could see every detail of his grey eyes and he could feel the soft skin underneath his touch. He leaned in more, their noses brushing almost touching. The glass splitting them was starting to crack letting each other slip through. Sherlock opened his mouth and inhaled John’s astringent sandalwood cologne, he held the smell in his chest as though it were his lifeline. John was so close and so sweet. John’s breathing lengthy and longing it sounded like a saxophone playing deep within his breathing.</p><p>John opened his eyes slowly and took in the sight of Sherlock again. His masculine features president, and his sharp cheekbones in his cupped hold. Then he inhaled sharply, pulling in the crisp and sharp air. It was a cold and cruel sound. He dropped his hand and turned his head away quickly. He focused on the trees in the far distance. He pushed back and away from the black-haired boy. Looking down; not able to look at Sherlock in the eyes. The tension was too much and almost suffocating. He cleared his throat; a wrenched and scraping sound compared to the still quiet moments ago. Then he stretched, pulling one arm over his head. His shirt lifted with the movement exposing his deliciously tanned back for a brief moment. </p><p>John cleared his throat again. The noise was louder and dry as sandpaper. It was a wake-up call to Sherlock, snapping him back to the loud overcrowded campsite filled with teenagers. Snapping him back to reality.</p><p>“See you tomorrow then cabin mate,” John got up. </p><p>Sherlock just stared at him with wide eyes, opened mouthed, he was shocked and taken aback. What happened? A second ago they were almost about to-or were they? What did he do wrong to scare John away? He slipped up again, hasn’t he? He blinked rapidly before calming his mind just enough to talk.</p><p>“Later then, John,” Sherlock waved back, his voice was shaking. </p><p>“Goodnight, Sherlock,” John said, rocking slightly. John couldn’t look at him; the magnetic force he couldn’t resist. He had to; he wasn’t like that. He could never kiss Sherlock-or could he? Well, that certainly wasn't what he was trying to do, he was not gay.</p><p>“Goodnight, John,” he replied sadly. </p><p>John nodded before turning away, then he went down the main pathway to the showers. He had a lot to digest.  When he was done he went back to the blue cabin. His heartfelt afloat and light. His breathing hinged and his legs felt like jelly, as he made his way not so gracefully into the cabin. </p><p>Meanwhile, Sherlock went straight to his top bunk.  Right before he stopped and pulled John’s jumper off and set it gently on John’s bed. He was on the ladder about to climb up when he hopped down and took a long draw of John’s smell from the wool textile. Sediment has gotten the better of him. Then he laid down on his bunk. He was still shocked and has too much data to process. There was an empty and throbbing feeling in his chest. He felt cheated on and hurt, but that was obscure. John wasn’t going to kiss him. Why would he, since they had only just met? </p><p>That was Sherlock’s presumptuous and hopelessly romantic brain trying to read too finely between the lines. John didn’t hurt him, Sherlock’s feelings did. His feelings need to be silenced. He went to work in his mind palace blocking and removing and shrinking the warmth he felt when he thought of John. It wouldn’t be enough to get rid of them completely but, at least he wouldn't be trying to kiss John. </p><p>He heard the door open and the familiar-sounding footsteps. It was John. John picked up the cream jumper and was about to pull out his trunk to store it away when he decided to pull it inside out and smell the lavender smell of Sherlock that resided on it. Then he tossed it into the trunk and locked it away quickly…he was getting obsessed. John laid down facing up to the bunk above. Three feet away he could hear the faint baritone snoring. He smiled as he thought of Sherlock lying peacefully asleep. His smile then faded into a sad one. His face falling into one of regret. He was so close to kissing him, yet, he just couldn’t. They had only just met, even so, he was beginning to grow very fond of Sherlock. And Sherlock of John. But, it was only as friends, right? What was happening to them? </p><p>....</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>My goodness was that a chapter! Hope you enjoyed it! Thank you all for your lovely comments~<br/>Oh, and how much they want each other...I can feel my heart aching a tad bit. Don't worry though, it gets better. They figure themselves out. Again, please leave a kudos and comment. </p><p>Till next time~ </p><p>&lt;3!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Memo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hello, my sweet readers! Would you like it if I rewrote this story with more pizazz, more consistency, and with more descriptiveness? I kind of wrote this as a fun story at first, but after reading your sweet comments and rereading the whole thing; I see a lot of potential in this. But, it is also kind of all over the place. I wonder what you all think, should I give this story another, more serious, chance? Or should I keep going even if these first few chapters aren't the best? I value all your opinions and want to know what you all want to see more, or less, of in this fic. Please comment below...it'd be a really big help. I want to give you all the best work I possibly can. </p><p>Thank you so much for sticking with me, for reading, for commenting, and for leaving kudos. Stay safe, happy, and healthy! &lt;3!</p><p>Love, 221B_bored</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, that's Chapter One. Hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading. Don't be shy and please let me know what you think and give a kudos. Positive and negative feedback is encouraged. Thank you all so much for your time and support! Love you all, stay happy! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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